


Fight Song

by Perdition



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-27
Updated: 2010-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:07:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perdition/pseuds/Perdition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex and fighting all equal the same thing, don't they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Song

Everything was a fight between the two, right down to this. Especially this. How could it not be, when one was at their most vulnerable? He'd always felt he had to fight his twin tooth and nail, and when exposed like this, where Vergil thought he could do exactly as he wished, it was impossible not to fight back, to not resist and just go with the flow.

That was why.

There was so much blood, perhaps made all the more red and volumous by the sheer paleness of the both of them. When it was allow free reign over flesh that was rarely exposed for nearly any reason, it made it seem all the more vital. It dripped from Vergil's lip, where Dante's teeth and cut into the tender flesh, to Dante's stomach, where it rolled downward in a pattering stream, thinned and vitally liquid from alcohol neither had really needed, but that had seemed a comfort and bonding tool at the time.

It spattered against Dante's throat when his head tipped back and Vergil's teeth found that tender space between neck and shoulder, and more gushed forth when his fangs ripped the skin open there, before it stitched itself together with preternatural speed, only to be ripped open again, this time wider, when Vergil bit down harder.

Claw marks were just background to it all, because despite what it was, it was still a fight. It was still a dance of dominance even when Dante finally submitted, at least a little. Because submitting, and letting Vergil's mouth and hands and any other part go where they wanted didn't mean giving in. It was just another mind game despite him gasping against Vergil's shoulder. Despite his lips trailing to Vergil's ear and whispering things he could barely thing, let along convey coherantly.

But Vergil had always seemed to understand, and that was what mattered.

And it was a win for Dante, when round one was over and Vergil bent, his tongue swiping over muscle and hot spilled fluids at the same time, despite that Dante had lost control of himself first. Vergil couldn't hold that against him. And it was a win for Vergil when, despite having once tasted the forbidden taboo their kind was known to indulge in, and having fought so valiantly against it until the defenses were down, Dante reached for him, his eyes and mouth and body saying again, and stop being so pussyfooted about it.

To make him _want_ like that was the victory. To make him beg and plead and break himself out of his human mold - the mold he didn't belong in to begin with, because nothing was taboo to their kind - and understand, _finally_, what it was between them. It was the fight, set in a different arena, with weapons of seduction and lust, and it was as good as the other they most often had opted for.

The wounds healed faster in this game, as well.

Vergil played him like a piano, his hands sliding over sweat-slicked flesh, his mouth plucking at strings Dante hadn't even been aware he'd had, and it was a rhythm they both knew with their bodies. It was simple, yet complex. Wrong, yet how could anything wrong feel like _that_.

It was lust, but at the end of the day, it was simply release, a turning to the one creature that understood, and knew how to soothe. To make him forget the nightmares and the sights of the day's jobs and the fact that they were behind on rent - _again_. It was love, but it was hate.

And in the end, it was the fight. And that was what mattered.


End file.
